


I’d Rather Be a Sparrow

by riahk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Substance Abuse, no specific ships but can certainly be interpreted that way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahk/pseuds/riahk
Summary: Physically speaking, she was in the remote woodlands of Gloucester County. Mentally, she was on the outskirts of Garreg Mach monastery, fighting like her life depended on it. Because it had. Because if she were still there, now, it would likely be as a corpse.Leonie wrestled with that idea, being dead. It was a possibility that always loomed in her line of work, both as a huntress and an aspiring mercenary. The main difference between the two being, of course, that the latter placed much higher odds on her being offed by an actual person. Unless she offed them first, of course.—A series of short stories exploring the five years Leonie spends fighting in the war.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. 1181

Barely a week into the new year, the Alliance's southwestern forests were already vibrant and alive with the arrival of spring. Mid-day sun filtered through rows of oak, growing like cathedral columns from the fertile soil, seeking real estate in the heavens. Whatever was not claimed by the trees was covered in tall grasses, ferns and wildflowers, themselves home to an array of honeybees, butterflies and the occasional beetle. Birds nestled into branches, singing the praises of the season. And in the hidden corners and groves, the eponymous golden stags of Leicester fame lurked, acting as silent protectors of the abundant scene.

A dirt road sliced through the woods, and on it rode a young woman for whom the beautiful surroundings were overshadowed by fresh memories of death. Leonie Pinelli sat stiffly on her horse, tired eyes set dead ahead as she moved reluctantly towards her destination.

She had been traveling for at least three days, non-stop, and the journey was running her ragged. An impressive feat for a skilled huntress who, on multiple occasions, had tracked quarries for weeks on end. But her body was fully capable of taking the strain; it was Leonie's mind that was dragging her down. The chatter and buzz around her was drowned out by the lasting echoes of blades clashing and soldiers screaming. Visions of blood - hers, her allies' and enemies', it did not matter - were etched into her like the nicks and scratches that, over many years, had accumulated along her skin.

Physically speaking, she was in the remote woodlands of Gloucester County. Mentally, she was on the outskirts of Garreg Mach monastery, fighting like her life depended on it. Because it had. Because if she were still there, now, it would likely be as a corpse.

Leonie wrestled with that idea, being dead. It was a possibility that always loomed in her line of work, both as a huntress and an aspiring mercenary. The main difference between the two being, of course, that the latter placed much higher odds on her being offed by an actual person. Unless she offed them first, of course.

Her body wobbled in the saddle and her hands tightened on the reins, struggling to stay present and focused. How many hours of sleep had she gotten last night? Her muscles ached. Just a little more, she thought, but her mind began drifting again.

“Just a little more!” she yelled, somewhere else. A chaotic battlefield spread out all around her as she raised her lance in another rallying cry, scrounging up the few soldiers still left in her battalion. She took another swipe at an oncoming adversary, fired another flurry of arrows, fought against the fatigue that was quickly building in her limbs. The area was cleared, momentarily, but another legion of troops was approaching on the horizon. And further beyond that marched the massive line of reinforcements that Princess - no, Emperor, she reminded herself - Edelgard had called in.

As Leonie gritted her teeth and prepared herself for the next wave, the screech of a wyvern flying low overhead caught her attention. She recognized it as Claude’s, as well as the command he was signalling to her and her men. “Fall back,” she called, guiding her horse in the direction of one of the tall cliffs they’d scouted out as a rendezvous point days before. The shimmering silver flag of the Knights of Seiros billowed at its peak.

Claude was dismounting as she arrived, and she followed suit, joining him as he stood along the cliff’s edge, his focus outward. He wore an unreadable expression and remained silent for a long time. Which wasn’t like him.

“It’s not quite how I imagined our graduation day would go,” Leonie finally said, hoping to at least draw out one of his signature smiles. But her voice came out strained, and when Claude looked at her it was with equally tired eyes. His lips were curling just barely upwards, so she took that as a small victory.

“You’re fighting well out there,” he replied. “Jeralt would be proud of you.”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips, her cheeks reddening. There was a tinge of pride in her heart, too - after all, the late Captain’s legacy was with her in every swing of her weapon, and it was good to hear him acknowledge that. “What a strangely sentimental thing to say, Claude.” Too sentimental, she thought. What was going on in that boy’s head?

He pulled a bottle of shimmering liquid from his coat pocket, handing it to her. “I don’t think there are any clerics available nearby, so this is the best I can do for now,” he said, and she examined the elixir briefly before stashing it away. Claude gave the valley one last scan before turning away. “Right, then. As you were-”

She caught his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"We're retreating, Leonie," Claude said, eyes on his wyvern. A wind had picked up from the west - if there was a time to move, it was now. "Back to Leicester. I've already given the word to everyone else."

"We can't! We can't let them take the monastery," Leonie cried, her voice fighting against the strong gusts building around them while she tightened the grip on her lance.

Claude wrested his arm from her, making a sweeping gesture across the battlefield. "It's taken," he said. Leonie searched his eyes for some glint of ingenuity, a last-minute scheme to turn the tide. But Claude only lowered his gaze to the ground, still stained red and scattered with bodies. "We need to re-group and re-evaluate," he mumbled; she was glad that, at the very least, she could still hear the gears turning in his head. He finally looked at her, placing two firm hands on her shoulders. "Go home, Leonie."

Easy for him to say, she had wanted to tell him. He had a dukedom waiting for him, a set role to play and responsibilities to attend to in Derdriu. She could only imagine House Riegan was in a scramble arranging a round-table conference at that very moment. The Empire’s declaration, and word of the mass destruction resulting from the assault on Garreg Mach, had certainly rippled across the continent by now.

But as she rode through the forest path, alone, she could nearly forget that a war was at her doorstep. Sauin was a secluded town of barely fifty people, and it was possible that the Gloucester officials had not yet updated its residents on current affairs - Leonie was not sure how she would break the news to them, if that was the case. Perhaps she wouldn’t.

She grimaced as another cramp shot through her abdomen, a remnant of her barely-healed wounds. No, there was no good way of hiding the truth from her family, not when she was still dressed in disheveled armor and dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes. Not to mention the fact that she was returning home at all. Leonie remembered well the promise she’d made - that when she came back, it would be as a mercenary, well on her way to repaying her debts.

With a labored breath she brought her ride to a halt, finally taking a moment to orient herself. Of course, with nearly twenty years of wandering these woods it didn’t take long. She swung herself off the horse, landing softly on her feet, and gently leading the animal off the path and into the thick brush. It was time for a quick pit stop.

They emerged into a clearing, and Leonie was glad to see that at least in this tiny corner of the world, nothing had changed. A familiar brook ran parallel to the road, opening into a small pool punctuated by tall rocks that she had fond memories of climbing. She’d learned to spear fish along its banks, enthralled by the satisfying sound her hand-forged arrowheads made when they pierced scales. Sometimes she pretended she was slaying a sea monster, or perhaps even a dragon.

It felt amazing to slip out of her breastplate, peel off the sweat-soaked cotton undershirt beneath it and strip fully down to her smallclothes. She waded into the cool water, exhaling deeply, loving the feel of the smooth rocks on her worn-out feet. Her head sank below the surface, plunging the world into a refreshingly thick silence as she ran fingers through her short red hair. For the first time in days she felt true quiet, and she wished she could stay there, never having to come up for air. Maybe she could will herself to grow gills.

But eventually she had to emerge, bobbing neck deep in the pool, a soft breeze gracing her cheeks. Her thoughts, for a moment suppressed by the current, trickled back slowly, as if the fluid lingering in her ears was pushing them back. But the raw grittiness of battle was washed away, watered down - instead, as she drifted along, visions of her fellow classmates sifted out.

It was too much strain for the moment to consider any of them had fallen. So she made the assumption that they were now all scattered across the region, safely back home like their fearless leader had so commanded. The nobles, who all displayed various levels of diplomatic preparedness, now faced the ultimate trial by fire. Politics were not something Leonie particularly cared for, but she acknowledged their importance in this case - for once, the hushed discussions behind locked doors would actually have a significant impact on the Alliance’s survival.

As for Ignatz and Raphael, their roles were more straightforward: if the trajectory was headed for war there would be no shortage of demand for knights. The latter would happily fight; the former might be more hesitant, though Leonie had witnessed a startling ferocity in Ignatz’s eyes while locked in combat with the imperial army. Yes, even the most gentle of her classmates would likely come out on the other side of this more hardened than was ever necessary. After all, they’d already spilled plenty of blood in their year at the academy. Good little soldiers, all of them. The true implications of that would be revealed in time.

And then there was her. Leonie Pinelli, penniless daughter of a hunter, greatest apprentice to a dead man. Retreated from a battle against the ones who killed said man. Still nothing to her name but a strong will and a desire for justice.

That had always been enough for her. Still was enough - well, she still hoped to add ‘greatest mercenary who ever lived’ to that short list, but she was on her way to that. There was no doubt in her heart that regardless of the obstacles, she would push forward and fight tooth and nail for what she believed in. Nothing much had changed for her, in that respect.

So why, as she drifted back to shore, did her knees draw instinctively inward, shivering in the early spring air? Why, as she watched the ripples her feet made along the water’s edge, was she choking back a sob, a salty tear melting into the fresh spring water evaporating off her skin? Exhaustion settled into her bones and she could not stop it. She let the feeling, whatever it was - grief, fatigue, anger, she was never good at identifying emotions - wash over her. Maybe that was what she needed right now.

“Leonie?”

The voice came from the edge of the brush, deep and familiar, and she straightened at the sound. Her eyes flitted to the other side of the creek, at the middle-aged man who was emerging from the grass. He was dressed modestly, in colors that blended into the landscape, with a bow and quiver slung across his back and a knife strapped to his belt. His hair was a vibrant orange-red flecked with grey.

She swallowed and gave him a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Dad,” she said, her voice soft but free of any hint of sadness. “I’m back.”

-

Sauin had not changed in the year she’d been gone, but it felt incredibly small compared to the massive sprawl of Garreg Mach she’d grown used to. Folks were still as friendly as ever, smiling and asking for updates, and not showing a single hint of concern that Leonie had returned empty-handed. It wasn’t in their nature to needle her about her debt, but still the guilt would not go away. In fact, their outgoing support made her feel even worse.

“Everyone is so excited to hear about the academy,” her father said from the kitchen, preparing the fish he’d caught earlier that afternoon. Leonie sat at the window, freshly bathed and wearing a clean set of clothes he'd offered her, sipping a cup of ale as she watched the trees sway slowly in the wind.

Arthur Pinelli was a kind, straightforward man; Leonie had at least inherited the latter trait from him. But a year spent surrounded by noble children, who utilized euphemism abundantly and buried their points in flowery language, it was jolting to hear the sincerity in his voice. She heard the fish sizzling in the pan, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. When Arthur called her to the dining room table and happily presented the modest dish in front of her, she scarfed it down with wild abandon.

"Thank you so much," she said between chomps. Her father took slow, deliberate bites, half-watching her.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but nothing much is different around here,” he said. “We had a pretty mild winter, and spring is looking to be a good hunting season. Did you get the letters we sent?”

“I did,” she replied, nearly finished with her food. It was difficult to get mail delivered in the boondocks, and so they’d had a limited correspondence, but she had tried her best to stay in touch. Though the past few moons had been so chaotic, and moved by in such a flash that she’d not had the time to sit and write. Leonie wracked her brain, trying to remember her last letter. Could it have been the Battle of the Eagle and Lion?

No. It had been something else. She put her fork down, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.

Her father’s warm hand was on hers, and when she looked up from the plate he met her eyes sympathetically. “I know we said it already in our reply, but now I can tell you in person too. We were all sorry to hear about Captain Jeralt. He did so much for us, and we know how much you looked up to him.”

Looked up to felt like an understatement, but Leonie had never quite found the proper words to explain how she felt about Jeralt. Only that it was something deeper than admiration. But now wasn’t the time to be picky about verbiage. “And I’m sorry I stopped writing after that. I had a lot going on.” She looked back down at her plate. “But we managed to get the assassin who did it, so. Little victories,” she added. There was more to say, and under normal circumstances she would be delighted to retell the fight against Kronya. But considering the long string of increasingly ridiculous events that had followed, Leonie didn’t know where to begin. So much for being straightforward.

Arthur smiled. “Glad to hear that. You always were a fighter,” he said, delivering a soft punch to her arm. His voice remained light. “It really is good to see you again, Leonie. This town is so quiet without its little firecracker.”

“Dad.” Her tone was serious. She couldn’t keep beating around the bush like this. “Are you aware of what’s happening in Fodlan right now?” Her hands had curled into fists on the tabletop.

He waited a while before answering. “You came here straight from the battle at Garreg Mach, didn’t you?”

She nodded slowly. Turns out neither of them were being straightforward today.

Unexpectedly, he cracked another smile and chuckled. “Yep. Like I said, always a fighter.”

-

The sky was glowing a soft pink through the canopy when Leonie made her way to the well, her mind focused on the rough feel of the rope as she lowered it down. Most of the villagers were busy in their homes preparing dinner, and she was thankful for the silence in the square. As her hands settled into the task, she began pondering on her father’s words.

Word of the impending battle at the monastery had reached Sauin weeks ago, though they had not yet been updated on the outcome. Count Gloucester had sent messengers out throughout the county urging operations to continue as normal, emphasizing that the Alliance would make efforts to stay out of the conflict as much as possible. That sounded about right, she thought, based on what Lorenz had told her about his father. Ease the people with comforting words, maintain a neutral front, and leave the grittier details to the shadows.

But it was too early to know if peace would be an option, and after what Leonie had seen so far, she did not see a way forward that didn’t involve bloodshed. Not for the common folk, at least. Maybe in Sauin, where the woods were too thick and easy for an army to get lost in, life would maintain its normalcy. The rest of the county, though, with the Empire looming just across the river, could just as easily turn into another Garreg Mach.

Her body tensed as she remembered the casual tone with which her father had told her all this; he’d always found it difficult to care about affairs outside their forest. It made sense, and that was part of the frustration. She could never fully fault him, when Sauin and the hunter’s lifestyle was all he knew. Was all anyone here had ever known, and been content with. Leonie had never understood, had dared to want more, which was why she’d put everything she had into leaving.

And now, having seen a fraction of what the world had to offer - the joys she’d shared with classmates, the fighting experience she’d earned and the terrifying foes she’d had to face with it - she was more restless in this place than she’d ever been. It wasn’t home. Leonie wasn’t sure if home was a concept her mind could even process.

She pulled the water up, felt the heft of the bucket in her hands, and promptly loaded another empty one on the rope. Leonie smiled, remembering a time in her youth when Jeralt had her build her strength between sparring sessions by drawing water, over and over, then carrying it back and forth from one edge of town to the other.

Her gaze scanned across the square, the very place where she’d first met the Captain. Everyone in town had gathered that day, staring in awe at the ragtag bunch of men, their faces scarred and their weapons sharp, ready. Jeralt had spoken with a much gentler voice than she’d expected, and Leonie remembered wondering if he was really as tough as he looked. She’d wanted to challenge him right then and there. In truth, she didn’t work up the courage to do so until after the mercenaries finished the job they’d been sent to do. When the whole town was celebrating, Leonie found herself approaching a very drunk Jeralt with bow in hand, boasting that she could defeat him in an archery contest.

Even with his face flushed from alcohol, he’d won, though just barely. She’d never experienced anything like it, the thrill of competition and the desire to know more. And the rest was history.

History that she couldn’t help reliving; it was certainly more pleasant than whatever was happening in the world now. She wondered what Jeralt would say about it all. He’d approached Rhea and the church with a cautious, almost reluctant demeanor, and perhaps he would have drawn the line at war with Adrestia. But then again, it was Edelgard’s allies who’d put a blade in his back. Had he survived, that would certainly be more than enough reason for him to fight.

Leonie shook her head, trying not to dwell on unchangeable pasts and hypothetical futures. It left nothing but pain in her heart, when she already had plenty to deal with. She loaded the water onto her back with a satisfying ease, a reminder of her progress, and began the short walk back home as the sun finally began to set.

Arthur was seated on the bench outside the door, tightening the string on his bow when she arrived. He flashed her a smile. “Thank you,” he said, rising from his seat to help her unload. They stood quietly in the cooling air, a wordless calm she was well used to.

“Your old training dummies are gathering dust in the shed,” he finally said. “I could set them up for you, if you’d like. Can’t let an opportunity to train go to waste.”

“No need,” Leonie replied, arriving at a decision as the words left her mouth. “I’ll be heading out at dawn.”

Mild shock crossed his face, but faded into a calm understanding. “But you just got here,” he mumbled.

She shifted weight on the balls of her feet. If it weren’t getting so dark, and she weren’t so tempted by the prospect of a night in an actual bed, she’d prefer to leave now. “I need to go to Derdriu. The Lords will be holding a conference soon to discuss involvement in the conflict, and there’s sure to be plenty of mercenaries there looking for work. I need to get in on the action early.” She rested her hands on the back of her head, leaning against the wall of the house and smiling at him. “I still need to pay everyone back, remember?”

“Of course,” Arthur agreed. “When have I ever been able to stop you, anyway?”

It’s really not all that difficult to stop me, she thought. But she appreciated the confidence with which he said it. And soon enough, the high esteem in which he held her would be backed by truth. She refused to retreat from another battle.

The refusal echoed in her mind like a lullaby as she drifted to sleep that night. Refusal to stop moving, refusal to die, and refusal to let the grief still lingering in her heart hold her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it for chapter 1! Next time, we fast-forward to 1182, where Leonie finds herself working with a merchant caravan and runs into a familiar artist friend...


	2. 1182

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonie's mercenary work leads her into an unexpected reunion with Ignatz.

There was still much of the world Leonie had not seen, but Derdriu was easily her favorite city thus far. Sweeping ocean views, thriving markets and, of course, amazing booze made the Aquatic Capital easy to love. And especially for a mercenary, it proved an excellent hub for finding work, enough so that Leonie almost thought of it as her home. Almost.

She strolled through the gates proudly, giving a small wave to the soldiers who, by now, were well familiar with the spunky fire-haired girl who often came to town, sharing tales of her most recent adventure. Today Leonie settled on just the greeting, marching onward with purpose. Derdriu’s main streets were bustling with merchants, and she tried her best not to get too distracted by the weapon stalls - though she couldn’t resist stopping to check out a massive rack of spears forged from silver and adorned with carefully sculpted stag heads on the handles. Beautiful to look at, but her current funds didn’t cover more than the bare minimum.

A salty sea breeze blew across the busy crowds, stirring the dangling signboards that hung along the line of more permanent establishments. She quickly recognized the engraving of a crescent moon, rotated on its side such that it resembled a wide smile. One that Leonie mirrored as she swung open the thick wooden door and slipped into the darkened tavern.

The Grinning Sickle was busy at all times of the day, due in part to its proximity to the main square. All variety of patrons graced its halls: locals, foreigners, sailors and battle-worn sellswords alike lined up daily to taste its famous mead. But it was more than just a place of respite. Leonie's eyes scanned the far wall as she stepped in, noting the massive bulletin board that spanned the majority of the partition. Whether you were a citizen looking for a bit of extra cash or a full-time fighter scouting out their next mission, this was the place to find what you were looking for.

Leonie sidled past the tables, spotting a couple familiar faces on her way to the bar, where she perched herself on the least-wobbly stool she could find.

"Well well, the little lion cub has stopped for another visit," a dark, smooth voice sang from behind the counter. The woman it was attached to stepped closer, her strong, calloused hands busy drying a glass. Her words rumbled low as she continued: "When did you get back?"

"Just rolled in. You were my first stop, as always, Ms. Cornwall," Leonie replied, resting her elbow on the counter as a mug was placed in front of her.

The older woman looked amused, but shook her head. "Please, it's just Selene," she scolded. As if she was fooling anyone by shying away from her last name, Leonie thought. Selene Cornwall, whose family was rumored to have distant relation to House Riegan, was a member of the Duke's Guard for all of six weeks before she got sick of patrols and quit to join a band of Alliance mercenaries. Twenty years, countless battle scars - several of which could be seen now on her face and along the low neckline of her dress - and a load of wild stories (often involving an intense but short-lived romance) later, Selene had retired and was dedicating her time to filling the population of Derdriu with liquor. Amongst other things.

Selene had also leveraged her decades’ worth of connections to craft an information network of her own; across the Alliance, if something was going on, or if someone needed a job done, she knew about it. And employers knew that if a note was posted at The Grinning Sickle, someone would step up to the task. Leonie had sourced most of her work through Selene over the past year, and they'd formed a healthy professional relationship.

"How did the job go?" Selene asked, pouring mead into Leonie's mug. The latter took a long, slow sip, savoring how the drink danced on her tongue.

"Uneventful," Leonie replied. "I honestly don't know how these nobles can afford to spend so much on security when there's no clear evidence of a threat," she added.

"Maybe all the possible threats took one look at you and ran away," Selene joked with a wink. Leonie let out a grunt that might have been a laugh and took another swig. "The Empire could invade any day, Leonie. Negotiation be damned," she continued. "And even if there's no official invasion, there're still plenty of soldiers occupying the south. They could get rowdy, and these minor lords just want to be prepared."

Leonie understood the situation just as Selene understood Leonie’s perceived powerlessness against Adrestia. The Alliance's standing armies were carefully regulated so as not to draw Edelgard's wrath; even if she were to enlist, the work wouldn't be much different from what she was already doing. And her current arrangement paid much better. As much as she resented it, money was what drove her these days; nearly all the gold in her purse right now was ready to be shipped back to Sauin. For what felt like the millionth time, she convinced herself that was enough.

She reached the bottom of her mug, setting it down on the table triumphantly. "Don't get too excited there," Selene warned. "I actually recommended you for another job, and the client should be in town today."

"Have you now?" Leonie asked, impressed as usual by Selene’s quickness and puzzled as to why the woman seemed to dote on her so much. She felt warmth rush to her head as she swallowed the last of the mead. It would take at least two more glasses to get her drunk. "What’s the request this time? More fancy nobles looking for peace of mind?"

"Not quite," Selene said. "The family isn’t nobility, but I'd say it's only a small step down." Her eyes were focused over Leonie's shoulder, and the latter became aware of soft footsteps approaching. "Ah, speak of the devil."

She followed Selene’s gaze, swiveled in her chair and found herself face to face with Ignatz Victor. It took all her energy to not yell in shock; her body over-corrected with stunned silence.

For whatever reason, Leonie had imagined a reunion with one of her former classmates would feel more momentous. But here she was, travel-worn and slouched over an empty glass, so caught off-guard that she couldn’t even muster up a greeting for Ignatz. They watched each other wordlessly, assessing, remembering. Less than two years had passed since that fateful day; why did it feel like ten?

Ignatz found his manners first. “Hello, Ms. Selene,” he said, voice still soft and fluttery like she remembered. “Leonie,” he added with a nod. “It’s been a long time. I’m glad you’re alright.”

Leonie chewed on her lip, trying to find the right words. “Hey, Ignatz,” she finally settled on, the shock still sweeping over her. “Same to you.” All the questions she wanted to ask stayed swimming in her head. Where have you been? What have you been up to? Do you feel completely useless in this war, or is it just me? A million answers she wanted to find, but couldn’t work up the courage to look for. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Selene.

The older woman watched them shrewdly, her lips curled in the slightest hint of a smile. It bloomed fully into a grin as she motioned between the two of them. “You’re old classmates, right? I figured you would work well together, then.” She looked at Leonie, her eyes softening, seemingly unaware of how uncertain the girl was about the arrangement. Leonie found herself searching Ignatz’s eyes, as if she could communicate all her apprehension with a single look.

Alas, they’d never been that close. But he at least appeared concerned too.

Selene broke the second awkward silence. “Well, you’ll of course have plenty of time to catch up later. Let me brief you on the details.”

-

Comparing the Victor family to nobility was certainly an overstatement. But considering the major role the merchant trade played in the Alliance’s economy, Ignatz’s upbringing was likely more similar to Lysithea’s or Marianne’s than to Leonie’s isolated childhood. After all, few commoner families could afford to send a second son to the Officer’s Academy.

And it appeared that the Victors’ wealth had not diminished in the wake of continental war. Leonie stood at the edge of the company caravan, admiring the long row of carriages and wondering what array of goods they carried. What were folks even spending their money on these days, and who outside the nobility could still afford luxury? Leonie admitted to herself that she really didn’t have a good grasp on the general spending habits of most commoners, either before or after the war began. Considering no battles had yet been fought on Leicester soil, perhaps Claude was succeeding in his new position.

She still wasn’t sure how to feel about their neutrality. It felt a whole lot like giving up, and surrender was never Leonie’s strong suit.

Ignatz emerged from the back of the carriage closest to her, brushing off his hands as he hopped lightly to the ground. “Inventory’s done,” he announced, hands deftly maneuvering the canvas shut. When he caught Leonie staring, he patted the vehicle lightly. “It’s pretty much all food. That’s most of what we transport these days,” he said. “Not all of us have the luxury of money, or a well-based faith in the new round-table head. Times are uncertain, so non-essential business is down. A lot.”

That answered one of her questions. She still had plenty more.

“You’ve been working for your parents this whole time?” she asked.

"Pretty much. Though Raphael and I were lost in the mountains for a few weeks after fleeing Garreg Mach," he said with a smile.

"You're kidding."

"Absolutely not. We were tired and confused, and took a wrong turn. Nearly ran out of rations," he continued. She was surprised by how calmly he talked about it, like it had been a fun camping trip and not a literal fight for survival. He motioned to her. "I remember thinking several times how nice it would've been to have you with us."

Leonie was unable to hide her blush at that. "Give yourself more credit."

"I could say the same to you."

The quickness of his retort took her again by surprise. She wasn't sure how she felt about this new, more witty Ignatz. "Come on, let's find your horse and I can signal to everyone that we're ready to take off," he said, turning around the corner of the carriage. As they followed the road, she finally took a moment to examine him more closely.

His olive-green hair was cut short, his face a bit longer and thinner but still holding a soft, ephemeral quality. His eyes, always carrying the gentle essence of a dreamer at the academy, were more focused and purposeful than before. She surmised, based on the light armor peeking out from under his emerald cloak, that he'd been applying skills learned at the monastery to his work. Yet there was still a smile on his face that glowed in the afternoon sun, the kind of tempered joy she found difficult to wear herself.

Ignatz Victor was thriving against all odds. He looked so happy in this moment that she refrained from asking if he'd had time to keep up his artistic hobbies. She was afraid the answer would dampen his mood.

As it turned out, he'd been observing her too. "Your hair's gotten longer," he said. "It looks good." Leonie ran a hand through the short bob, playing with wavy strands that framed the edge of her jaw. She'd been considering growing it out.

"And you've gotten taller," she said, having just noticed as she said it. “Though not by much,” she added with a chuckle.

Ignatz appeared undeterred. “It makes it easier to sneak around,” he said. They’d arrived at the remnants of a small encampment set up toward the middle of the caravan, and she spied a few men in armor packing bedrolls onto their horses. Her own steed lingered just beyond, drinking at the edge of a pond. The same horse she’d had at Garreg Mach, his ginger coat matching her perfectly. Leonie called him over with a whistle. “Another familiar face,” Ignatz mused as the animal approached and nuzzled both of them fondly.

“I’m surprised you remember him,” she said, giving the horse a few pats and adjusting the saddle.

“I remember you were too nervous the night you got him to give him a name,” Ignatz said. “I’m hoping he has one now?”

It was true, for a number of reasons. Claude had brought her to the stables shortly before the battle against Edelgard, swept his arms across the stalls and told her to pick one. And not to see it as a loan from the monastery. They would be hers to keep. The thought of it, the power she felt she’d had, flustered her so that she couldn’t come up with a name. It had felt too monumental a decision to jump into. Not to mention the ramping anxiety about outcomes, about who would survive the imperial attack. Taking all steps to prevent sentimentality had made sense, at the time.

“Yes, he has a name,” Leonie said, eyes still focused on the saddle. In her peripheral vision she caught the expectant look on Ignatz’s face. “Oh. It’s Jeralt,” she mumbled.

“You named the horse Jeralt,” Ignatz said slowly, incredulously. “After… after Captain Jeralt.”

“I did,” she confirmed. With a smirk she turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. “Something bothering you about it?”

“N-no, it’s a nice name,” he said, and the frantic hesitance in his voice felt very familiar. Comforting, even. Leonie took Jeralt by the reins, pausing for a moment to look at Ignatz. Really look at him, past all the changes, and find the shy boy she’d trained with so long ago. The way he shed all hesitation, worked so hard to follow a path his parents had picked for him, and actually managed to find some joy - and skill - in it. And how, even after a long, strenuous session at the training grounds, Leonie would spot him sneaking off to some hidden garden and sitting down to paint, tired hands be damned.

It reminded her a bit of herself, the way she’d squeezed drills in at the end of a long day hunting with her father. Pushing past the sore muscles screaming at her, determined to get out and see something beyond the woods. To pursue the glimpse of an ideal she’d seen in one mountain of a man as he’d passed like a storm over town, leaving a ball of knotted lightning in her stomach.

Leonie realized she’d been staring for a while, but her friend was too polite to ask her to stop. “You know, I really missed you, Ignatz,” she said. The words hung in the air for a long moment before she patted him firmly on the shoulder. “We should get going, shouldn’t we?”

She’d already moved past him when he finally replied. “Yea, we should. We’ve a long trip ahead of us.”

-

Departing from Derdriu, the caravan was headed west, toward Daphnel territory. From Leonie’s understanding, House Daphnel’s limited political power as well as its close proximity to contested Kingdom lands meant its leadership had to deal with close scrutiny from imperial spies. Though its neighbors in Galatea, still resisting assimilation, provided a buffer against Adrestia, this also placed Daphnel in a position of potential threat. Even something as small as bolstering the castle guard could be interpreted as a show of aggression against the Empire.

But it was now early autumn, and food supplies were quickly becoming a concern. Unfortunately for Daphnel, the Alliance’s fragile peace meant that most trade companies were refusing to travel so far west, for fear of inciting war. To make matters worse, rumors were rapidly cropping up that monsters and bandits from Faerghus had made their way into Alliance territory and were terrorizing any who dared travel beyond Gloucester county.

Leonie hoped the rumors were true. She was itching for a good fight - knocking imperial heads would be ideal, but she could settle for a wild beast or two. After all, that was why she’d been hired. The only caravans willing to travel under such high-risk conditions were wealthy enough to afford protection. And the Victors did not skimp on salary when it meant protecting their (literal) bread and butter. With how large their personal militia was, Leonie was curious as to why they’d even hired her.

It had been a pleasant journey so far, but they were only just now approaching the edge of Riegan lands. If she climbed to a high enough vantage point, Leonie imagined she’d be able to see the barren wastes of Ailell peeking at the edge of the horizon. There, too, was a place she’d love to visit sometime.

She spied Ignatz riding near the front of the carriage line, and scanned her zone one last time before speeding up to meet him, matching pace along his left flank. “Nothing to report, sir!” she called in her most official-sounding voice, laughing.

“Hey, Leonie,” Ignatz replied calmly, his eyes on their surroundings. “Beautiful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Spare me,” Leonie groaned. It was nothing but sun and trees and dirt. She’d seen plenty of that.

Ignatz frowned at her. “I’m serious. I never joke about lovely views,” he said, sweeping a hand around them. “See how the leaves are changing color? I’ve never been down this road during this time of year before.” Leonie watched the way his eyes were alight, the gears in his head turning. Leave it to Ignatz to get so invested in the basic cycles of nature.

“If you think it’s so gorgeous, you should paint a picture,” she teased. It had surprised her, initially, how easy it was for her to slip back into their casual banter. As if not a single day had passed since their last day of school.

She was glad to see he was smiling now. “Maybe during our next break,” he said.

“So you do still paint, then,” she replied.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “When I have the time, yes.”

That lifted her spirits more than she thought it would. She stretched her arms over her head, actually watching the trees now. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that they did look quite pretty. “Well, I’m glad one of us is still feeling fulfilled,” she sighed. She’d said it casually, but Ignatz looked at her with genuine concern. “Oh, don’t get so upset. I’m just frustrated with…” she trailed off for a moment before sweeping both arms down dramatically. “With everything.”

Her huff dissipated into the dry air, the action strangely relieving. Ignatz faced back toward the road, pensive. “War tends to have that effect, I suppose,” he finally said.

“The Alliance isn’t even at war,” Leonie began. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that the citizens have been able to carry out their lives in relative peace. But there’s just… there has to be something I can do about all this. We need to either lay down and let the Empire take us, or bring them down for good - this in-between is absolutely aggravating.”

“I take it you’re more inclined to the second option,” Ignatz replied jokingly.

Leonie looked ahead, squinting to see the mountains far in the distance. Faerghus was on the other side, fighting tooth and nail for what they believed in. They didn’t have the luxury of a leader skilled in political maneuvering. The Kingdom had drawn Adrestia’s attention first, and neither side would stop until the other was dead. And when that happened, the Alliance was next. It could be in three months or three years, but it didn’t change the fact that they were all living on borrowed time. Indebted to the soldiers fighting just over that made-up border.

Her hands clenched instinctively. She already had enough debt; she didn’t need to take on any more.

It took her a moment to realize she’d let herself get lost in her thoughts, and that Ignatz was speaking in the background, trying to catch her attention. “Hey, Leonie,” she heard him say. Her gaze turned to him, silently confirming she’d regained her focus. “There you are,” he said with a smile.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

“Don’t be,” Ignatz insisted. “I understand what you mean, about wanting to do something. It’s been nearly two years, and I’m still trying to capture that feeling I had when we were fighting at Garreg Mach - that I was actually standing up to protect what was important to me.” Leonie nodded, and he continued. “That’s part of why I’m doing all this, now. It might not bring us a victory, but it’s still a problem that needs solving.”

Leonie rolled her shoulders. “I’ve been offering solutions across the counties, then. None of it has felt particularly useful.” She sighed, realizing how harsh that sounded. “But I think that’s me being selfish, because I just really want to show the empire who’s boss.”

Ignatz laughed at that. “Wouldn’t we all?”

“Well, at least we’re headed towards where the action is. Just in case we can’t help ourselves,” she said.

Before either could say more, they both became aware of a low rumbling along the ground. Footsteps. Big ones. They exchanged a knowing glance, and Ignatz took off for the front of the caravan while Leonie kept her eyes peeled. The carriages were brought to a halt and several of the other soldiers were calling out orders, staying on the alert. No one had signaled to confirm who - or, more likely, what - was approaching them.

She rode her horse down the line until she reached the end, but found nothing out of the ordinary. “Keep an eye out,” she said to the militia members, just as a piercing roar rang out from the opposite end of their entourage. Leonie covered her ears, wincing at the loud sound and reaching out a hand to soothe Jeralt. “Ignatz,” she muttered, breaking into a gallop and heading in the direction of the screech.

“Shit,” she muttered as she reached the front wagon, taking in the already chaotic scene. There were at least three dire wolves standing boldly in the road, several engaging soldiers with claws and teeth. Her already elevated pulse began racing wildly as she maneuvered along the edge of the developing battlefield, watching as several men began forming a line of shields between the beasts and the caravan.

Finally she spotted a flash of green in the middle of the frey, focusing on Ignatz with a blade in hand, fighting head-to-head with one of the monsters on foot. He moved faster than she remembered, deftly swinging his sword in quick, precise strikes. Not that it seemed to be doing much more than irritating his opponent.

Her heart nearly dropped into her stomach when she spied another wolf approaching from the side. “Look out!” she yelled, as her hands flew to the bow on her back, notching three arrows at once. Drawing the string was second nature, and when she let them fly she rode in closer, already knowing she hit her mark. The beast was momentarily stunned, giving just enough of an opening for a small battalion of reinforcements to swoop in.

Leonie began to approach, dismounting momentarily as she sprinted towards Ignatz, reaching now for her lance and striking at the beast’s arm just as it went in for a swipe. It recoiled in pain as she followed through, feeling Ignatz’s back brush up against hers. “Thanks for the help,” he said, blocking a follow-up attack as Leonie faced another incoming enemy.

“What the hell are you doing, going up against one of these guys by yourself?!” she yelled, her weapon at the ready. There was a pained roar behind her, and as she turned toward the sound she was shocked to see Ignatz withdrawing a hatchet he’d wedged in its head, watching as it collapsed to the ground. “Goddess, Ignatz-”

“Don’t move,” he interrupted, and she heard the whistle of metal just past her ear as he flung the very same hatchet through the air. There was another crunch of flesh. Leonie pivoted back around, swinging at the second wolf as it attempted to deal with the blade now embedded in its upper arm. “We’ve got a problem,” she heard him say as she delivered a decisive thrust and the monster fell to the ground with a thud.

“What is it now,” she huffed, but the answer quickly became apparent. There was another thunderous roar, louder than all the others, and a quick stampede of footsteps coming from further ahead. The earth darkened around her as a great shadow loomed over them, and she craned her neck up to see the massive tangle of muscle and fur that managed to blot out the sun.

Her first thought was to run, but she resisted the urge for several seconds as the last of the small ones fell around her, leaving only the hulking beast that now stood in her path. Then Leonie’s hand shot out to grab Ignatz’s wrist, giving his arm a tug. “Let’s go,” she said, taking off in a run as her eyes scanned the field for Jeralt. If Ignatz had any objections, he was too caught off-guard to voice them, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he let her drag him along.

The horse met them at the edge of the road, and Leonie wasted no time hopping on. She reached out a hand to Ignatz, pulling him up and behind her into the saddle. “Can you still shoot?” she asked - mostly rhetorically, as she shoved her bow into his arms.

“Of course,” he replied, withdrawing an arrow from her quiver as Jeralt began speeding along the perimeter. No one had engaged the beast yet, and Ignatz signaled to the soldiers as they watched the oversized wolf in awe. “Fall back and surround it! Focus on ranged attacks!” He called out, keeping an arrow trained on their opponent as they rode around to its back. With all the minions taken care of, it wouldn’t be too difficult to overwhelm it - the only question was whether they actually had the strength to bring it down.

Ignatz fired an arrow as they rode out of the beast’s eyeline, striking the back of its neck. There was a cry of pain as it pivoted swiftly around, following their trajectory. “Keep riding; we’ll draw it away from the wagons,” he said.

“I really don’t like playing bait, but alright,” Leonie said, gritting her teeth as she signaled her horse to run faster. It was clear that Ignatz was concerned with their transport being damaged, which was all well and good, but there were certainly more important things to focus on. Like staying alive.

Her passenger kept firing arrows, striking the target at random, but nothing managed to stick. “It’s no good. He keeps shaking them off,” Ignatz muttered. She could hear him searching around for something in his pockets, followed by the click of flint. “Stop for a moment and cover your eyes,” he yelled. “Jeralt’s too,” he added quickly. “And don’t open them again until I tell you to.”

She looked back for a second, not sure she felt comfortable with their current distance. But there was a firm insistence in Ignatz’s voice, and so she slowed to a trot and leaned forward, whispering reassuringly to her horse as she placed her hands on his eyes. “Ready,” she said, her own lids squeezing shut. But not before she spied, from the corner of her eye, Ignatz flinging something small and metal into the air. There was a small thud and a scream, followed quickly by the sensation of Ignatz dismounting, his light footsteps tapping quickly along the ground.

“Alright, go ahead and open ‘em!” he yelled, his voice much further away. Leonie’s hands fell away and she blinked her eyes open, re-adjusting to the sunlight.

The first thing she noticed was the beast stopped in its tracks, flailing its head around as it swiped at nothing. Then Ignatz, running straight past it without drawing attention, and climbing onto the creature’s back. That threw it into a frenzy as it shook its torso furiously, but Ignatz held on tight. Leonie wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep clinging, though. It still wasn’t clear what exactly his plan had been, but now was the time to start improvising.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” she called, waving her arms. The beast blinked rapidly and, drawn to the sound of her voice, bounded toward her. Leonie gulped - it was fast, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could outrun it. But so long as it followed her, Ignatz would have an easier time staying on its back. That’s all that mattered. She took off, twisting in her saddle and trusting Jeralt to keep them straight on the road, loading an arrow just in case.

Ignatz reached the beast’s neck, his face flushed, and she spotted a glint of metal in his hands. He plunged the sword deep into its flesh, withdrew, and stabbed again. And again. The wolf came to another pained stop, writhing as Ignatz continued to deliver blow after blow. After what felt like an eternity it shuddered and collapsed, finally still. Only then did Ignatz relax his hand, breathing heavily and still gripping matted fur.

Leonie dismounted and sprinted over as quickly as she could, her own heart still beating out of her chest. “Ignatz!” She wasted no time climbing up from the fallen beast’s arm, stabilizing herself on its shoulder blade. Ignatz’s eyes were staring off into the distance, his body shaking and his face splattered with blood. “Ignatz,” she said, running a hand along his back. “You’re alright, Ignatz. Snap out of it.”

He leaned forward, exhaling deeply. “I know. I know,” he said, tossing his sword down to the ground below them and cupping his face in his hands. “That was,” he huffed. “Exhausting.”

She nodded, ruffling his hair lightly. “I bet it was,” she replied, her brain still struggling to catch up with the situation. Processing what she’d just seen him do. It was almost mind-boggling. “But luckily,” she began, giving the corpse below them a good pat. “Luckily we just found ourselves lunch.”

-

After patrolling the area thoroughly and confirming that there were no more nearby beast dens, Ignatz declared it safe and the party paused for an afternoon break. A cheerful relief permeated through camp, celebrating the lack of any casualties or grievous injury with a round of ale and some meat skewers (courtesy of their attackers). Ignatz was meticulously polishing his blade when Leonie found him, two mugs in her hand and a wooden stick protruding from her teeth. "Here you are," she said, setting a drink beside him.

"Thank you," he said as she plopped down. Several soldiers were running through drills in front of them, and Leonie admired their diligence. After their surprise encounter she’d expected more of them to be resting. She watched them move, silently analyzing their movements, noting areas where they could tweak their footwork or improve their grip. Ignatz continued his work silently.

“So,” Leonie began, her head swimming with questions once more. “That was an impressive maneuver back there,” she said.

“It was nothing, really,” Ignatz said. “I’m honestly lucky it worked out how it did,” he said.

Leonie frowned. “Nonsense. Are you telling me that’s the first time you attempted that trick?” She opened and closed her hand several times, mimicking a flash of light.

He placed his sword down gently, rummaging through his cloak and pulling out a small metal canister, about the length of his hand. A small fuse stuck out from the top. “It’s called a flash bomb,” he explained. “Like the name suggests, it creates a bright flash that temporarily blinds anyone in the vicinity. My parents got them from an inventor in Ordelia territory.” He handed it gently to Leonie, who turned it around in her fingers, noting it was heftier than its appearance would suggest.

She handed it back to him, her interest in the gimmick faded. “I suppose we all picked up a penchant for craftiness from Claude,” she mused. “Your sword form was fantastic too. You’ve clearly been practicing.” If it weren’t for the fact they were both tired from the fight, she’d have challenged him to an all-out spar right there. “Why did you hire me for this, anyway?” she asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you seem more than capable of handling things here.”

Ignatz turned to her, tilting his head and shrugging. “It never hurts to have more hands. You were pretty helpful today,” he said, his words carefully chosen. He’d always been good at taking the edge off his words, of being polite. But his hesitance had always been obvious, and right now he was dripping with it.

“Seriously,” Leonie said with a sigh. “There are tons more experienced mercenaries than me, and I’m sure you have the money to afford them.” It occurred to her that she should stop, that she was selling herself short. But at the same time, she couldn’t stand the idea of being patronized. “If you’re just doing this to be nice, I’ll be mad,” she warned.

“It’s not that!” Ignatz threw up his hands defensively, his voice anxious. “I mean, it helps that I know you. But you’re also genuinely good at what you do,” he said. Then he relaxed, his next words surprising her: “You really don’t need to fish for compliments with me, Leonie. Though I understand I’m an easy target in that sense.” He looked at her, and she felt a depth to his gaze that confused her, made her feel like he’d seen right through whatever it was she was hiding. Something not even she was aware of.

A metallic clink caught their attention, and Leonie turned to see one of the soldiers waving at her, giving a small bow. “Excuse me, Miss Pinelli,” he said. “Ignatz told us you were one of the best lance fighters at the academy.” Leonie’s eyes shot to her friend for a moment, noting the embarrassed look on his face. The man continued. “We were wondering if you’d spar with us, maybe give us a few pointers?”

It was the confidence boost she needed. “Of course,” she answered, pushing herself to her feet. “Let me run around camp a few times to warm up first, and I’ll be right with you.”

-

Any apprehension she’d been holding dissipated when she had a weapon in her hand. Leonie deftly blocked another attack, shuffling quickly to the side of her opponent and striking, winning another bout. “You need to be quicker on your feet,” she instructed. “Smaller steps, so it’s easier to adjust your movement and direction in response to an attack.” She rolled her shoulders back, noting that she was more fatigued than she’d expected.

“Let’s take a break,” she announced, and several soldiers gave a sigh of relief. Her eyes scanned the camp, finding Ignatz, who hadn’t moved from his earlier spot. His weapon was now sheathed, and he had something else in his hands. She moved in his direction and identified a leatherbound notebook in his lap, a pen moving across its pages. They were wide, quick strokes that were unlikely to be writing. He didn’t notice her approach.

“Are you sketching?” she asked, quietly.

Ignatz tensed up, looking at her with surprise. “Ah! Yes. I should have asked permission first,” he said.

“Uh,” Leonie began, but then realization dawned on her face. “Were you sketching me?” He nodded slowly. “You don’t need to ask,” she said. She was still standing in front of him, her eyes curious. “I would like to see, though. If you don’t mind.”

He sighed, putting the pen down. “Of course you would,” he said. He swiveled the book around in his hands, holding the page open in front of her. Leonie took it gently in her hands, crouching down next to him.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen his work, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing his sketches before. Mostly he’d only shown her finished paintings, generally landscapes. Looking at the drawings in front of her, she wondered why he didn’t use human subjects more often. There was a series of figures drawn across the page: some more detailed than others, all of her in motion. Leonie traced her fingers along the lines, noting the focus he put into the contours of her arm, the specific orientation of her hands as she swung her spear. The face was like a more perfect version of her own, and she liked the way he drew the hair around her cheeks, curly and cute.

She looked down at herself momentarily, flexed her fingers open and closed several times, trying to see the way Ignatz saw her. Leonie had never considered herself as a worthy art subject; that’s what well-dressed nobles and great heroes of myth were for. But Ignatz had managed to portray her in a way that was simultaneously accurate and elevating.

“Your fighting style is a joy to draw,” he said, and it was only then that Leonie realized she had a smile plastered on her face, and that Ignatz was staring at it. She shook it off, but it refused to fully fade. “It’s so fluid and precise. Just like-” he stopped suddenly, another thought taking over. “That reminds me. I found something in one of my old sketchbooks I wanted to show you,” he said, rising to his feet and taking off in a run. “Wait right there,” he called back.

Leonie waited patiently, flipping through the pages of the book in her hands while he was away. Mostly flowers, random small objects, a few fancy sword hilt designs here and there. One particular page caught her eye: it was dedicated to faces, though these appeared to be drawn from memory. She quickly recognized them all as the members of the Golden Deer. Claude’s enigmatic smile, Lorenz’s atrocious haircut, Lysithea’s vibrant eyes - and she even spotted herself, her hair short again, her expression serious.

She skimmed the rest of the book, noticing several other places Ignatz had sketched his former classmates. Was he trying not to forget them?

“Sorry for the wait,” Ignatz panted, leaning over to catch his breath. A sun-bleached leather notebook was in his hand. Leonie shut the one she was looking at, waiting for Ignatz to rejoin her on the ground. “I had this back at Garreg Mach,” he said, searching through it. “I thought you might like these ones in particular.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at the page of sketches, the ink faded and the corners beginning to yellow. "These are… these are the Captain," she muttered, admiring the work Ignatz had done. Jeralt came alive in his drawings, whether deftly swinging a lance or stretching; there were also several renditions of his face, and Ignatz had managed to capture the scars and wrinkles infinitely better than Leonie remembered. "These are fantastic," she said, tracing her finger along the careful strokes. She looked up at the artist, smiling softly. "Thank you for showing me."

"You still fight like he taught you," he said, lifting up his just-completed work again. "Maybe I can put these together into a single piece."

The thought hadn't occurred to her, but she liked the idea of reuniting with her former teacher, at least symbolically. "If you want to," she said, trying to imagine herself as one of those figures in the paintings and tapestries she’d seen. "I'd certainly like that."

Ignatz nodded. "Then that's reason enough to do it."

-

The rest of their trip went by in a flash, and without incident. Leonie was surprised to find that she was glad for the lack of interruption, enjoying the days riding along and catching up with Ignatz. They reminisced about their school days, traded fighting techniques, and Ignatz convinced her to sit still for a quick portrait at one point. Before they knew it, they’d walked through the gates of Daphnel.

A tall, confident figure, simultaneously elegant and imposing, greeted them as they arrived. Leonie recalled seeing Judith von Daphnel once at Garreg Mach in passing, though they had never exchanged words. She remembered, with a pleased smirk, how Claude had acted more exasperated than usual after speaking with the woman. It took a particularly sharp mind to get under her former house leader’s skin like that.

“A pleasure working with you as always, Ignatz,” Judith said as she lifted another box out of the cart - she had insisted on unloading the goods herself, shooing away the guards accompanying her. “It’s so difficult to find folks willing to make the trek all the way out here.” Her eyes traveled to Leonie. “You’re another of Claude’s old classmates, aren’t you? I recognize that competitive glint in your eye.”

“Oh, yes,” Leonie replied, Judith’s smile throwing her off-balance. “I’m Leonie Pinelli, mercenary for hire,” she managed, reaching out a hand and hoping her nervousness wasn’t too visible. It still felt strange to introduce herself as a mercenary.

Judith shook her hand firmly. “I’m sure your skills are in high demand right now,” she began. “I’d love to spar with both of you later, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be an honor, ma’am!” Leonie said with a nod. It had just sunk in that she was speaking to the Hero of Daphnel. Stories of her escapades had reached even the remote wilderness of Sauin. She turned to Ignatz, who had a calm smile as he observed their interaction. He wasn’t struggling at all to keep his cool, and she couldn’t help but feel jealous of his self-control.

“We encountered some monsters on the road here. It was still in Riegan territory, but we’re pretty sure they travelled through Daphnel first,” Ignatz cut in. Judith’s gave him a serious, understanding nod. “Have beast attacks been a big issue here recently?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve heard reports all across my lands.” Her mouth had flattened into a thin line. “If they’re making it that far, I may have to report to the council,” she muttered. Then her expression brightened again, her voice reassuring. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, though. That’s what the extra supplies are for,” she added, giving one of the packages a good pat.

“Well, this was a pretty big shipment, so I’m hoping it’s enough,” Ignatz said. “My parents and brother are beginning to get more and more apprehensive about traveling out here, but I’m doing my best to keep Daphnel as a viable client.”

Judith narrowed her eyes, scanning the area quickly before beckoning the two of them closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she began, her voice a low whisper. “Half of this is getting smuggled to the Kingdom. House Galatea is getting hit really hard by Rowe forces right now, and they’ve called for aid,” she said. “They’re our distant relatives, and I’ll take any opportunity to fight back against Imperial influence. Sending supplies - however covertly - is the least I can do right now.”

Leonie blinked in surprise, but couldn’t help but smile at the news. “Why are you telling us this? There are plenty of Imperial sympathizers in the Alliance right now, you know.”

Judith shrugged. “Claude trusts both of you. So I do, too,” she explained.

“It’s nice to know the new round-table head has so much faith in us,” Ignatz said. His eyes lowered to the ground. “Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing I can do, and we’re only dragging out a foregone conclusion to this war.”

“Chin up, kids. Return a bit of that faith to your fearless leader, won’t you?” Judith insisted. “He’s doing everything in his power to keep the Five Great Lords from destroying the Alliance from the inside, all while keeping the Empire off our backs. The least we can do is keep Leicester in tip-top shape until the opportunity to strike arises.”

There was a power behind her words that shook Leonie, sparking a current of determination that coursed down her back. Even with the chaos permeating through her region, Judith had still chosen to send rations to the frontlines, spending her own resources and running the risk of getting tangled in the conflict herself. Leonie wanted that courage.

She remembered her last visit home, the same drive that had brought her to this point, and wondered if maybe she’d lost her true motivation somewhere along the way. It was time for her to find it again.

-

The western wall was quiet, graced by a tranquil early fall chill. Leonie stepped out onto the parapet, watching as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains. They were so close now, and as she leaned against the railing she wondered if a battle was taking place on the other side. Dinner had been a gallant affair, with good food and even better wine; but Leonie was more in a thinking mood, and the breeze on her cheeks felt much more relaxing than the conversation she’d reluctantly held downstairs.

Her ears perked up at the creak of the door opening and a familiar shuffle of footsteps. She remained still, eyes fixed on the horizon even as Ignatz moved next to her silently, no doubt admiring the purple and red hues that bled across the sky.

“Come out here to clear your head?” he asked. “You looked like you were deep in thought at dinner.”

“I suppose so,” she replied. “Though I’m surprised you came to talk to me if you suspected as much. Aren’t you worried I’ll ask you to leave?”

He let out an uncharacteristically smug laugh. “Last I checked, you didn’t have a monopoly on watching the sunset,” he said. After a quick moment he added: “I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

Leonie shifted to look at him, shoulder pressed against the cool stone. “Shoot.”

“It’s been great working with you again. You’re definitely worth the money,” he began. Of course, Leonie wanted to say, but she let him continue. She already had a hunch what was next. “I know you’re only signed on for this one job, but… would you possibly be interested in extending your contract? We could really use the help.”

As a mercenary, it was a dream to be offered a longer engagement. As Leonie, the prospect was a tad more conflicting. Even after anticipating the question, she felt a tightness in her chest at the idea. And the fact that, against her better judgment, she had to refuse.

Ignatz had launched into a longer speech before she could give him an answer. “You asked me earlier whether I hired you just because I know you. Which was understandable. And definitely a factor, outside of your skill,” he said. She could sense the anxious tension in his voice. “The truth is, I haven’t been feeling too confident about the state of the world lately,” he continued. “But when I saw you again, it reminded me a bit of why I’m fighting. And I fought much better out there because of it.”

The sketches of her and the rest of their classmates flashed through her head. “It really did feel like the Golden Deer could do anything together, didn’t it?” she asked, the sappiness of her words almost giving her a stomach ache. Even worse was that the act of saying it empowered her, too.

And she realized that Ignatz could already tell she was about to decline his offer.

“It did,” he agreed. “And I wish we could all work together on this, but it’s not an option right now. Claude and the other nobles have their family affairs to tend to, and Raphael has his hands full looking for work while also staying close to his sister and grandfather. You’re pretty much the only person I can ask for help right now,” he said.

Leonie inhaled deeply. “After this job, I’m going to the Kingdom,” she said, feeling a weight lift off her chest as she said it. Just this morning it had been nothing but a fleeting thought, a vague idea, but now it felt real. She realized she’d been making all her big decisions on the fly lately.

Ignatz smiled gently. “Well, it was worth a shot,” he said. “But Faerghus will be good for you. You really shine on the battlefield.”

“Mm,” she mumbled. “I think it’s what Captain Jeralt would have done, too.” Of course, Jeralt was also from the Kingdom, but she liked to think he’d travelled wherever he was needed most. “I’m sorry to leave you behind, though. It was really fun fighting alongside you again,” she said, wishing she could put more feeling into her words. There was still a part of her that wanted to drag him to Faerghus with her, to have a little piece of Garreg Mach at her side. But they were both pulled in opposing directions.

“If that’s your decision, then there’s something else,” Ignatz said, taking a quick step toward her. Before Leonie could react his arms were around her, head resting on her shoulder. She was surprised by how strongly he embraced her.

“Woah there,” she breathed. “We still have the whole trip back to Derdriu, you know. Don’t get all sentimental on me. Please.” A tear was welling up at the edge of her eyes, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he was holding her so tightly or just her own feelings taking over.

He broke away for a moment, hands on her shoulders. “Only if you promise to come back alive,” he said.

A laugh escaped her lips as she rolled her eyes, but her next words were sincere. “Of course,” she said, and Ignatz pulled her back into a hug as the words left her mouth. Leonie placed a hand tentatively on the back of his head, smoothing down his hair. There was no point in fighting the moment, and she decided to let him stay as long as he wanted.

All this time she’d been falling back on her memories of the Officer’s Academy to pull her through, holding it up as a beacon to guide the world back to. She was going to add this moment - the fading daylight, the stars beginning to shine through the dark as her friend’s warmth clung to her - to the list of things she would be fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT expect this chapter to be so long, but I actually had a ton of fun writing the dynamic between Leonie and Ignatz! The latter gets some really interesting character growth (I've always loved the stark contrast between his pre- and post-timeskip battle lines) and I wanted to explore that more. These two also get a really nice ending so consider this a nod to any fans of their supports. :)
> 
> Also, this isn't the last we'll see of Judith von Daphnel. ;) She deserved to be playable and actually have supports and I am starving for more content with her.
> 
> Next up: 1183! Leonie goes full soldier in service to House Galatea, forging a friendship with a certain blonde pegasus rider...


End file.
